


Ninshishō

by BlueBirdys



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Based on Astro Boy Lore, Character Death, Dementia, Estrangement, Flashbacks, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Memory Loss, Prison Visit, Revenge, Terminal Illnesses, Three Years After Canon Events, and 'Astro B.O.Y.D.!', loss of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26153992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBirdys/pseuds/BlueBirdys
Summary: Gyro is summoned back to Japan for a ridiculously simple but unfortunately necessary task.
Relationships: Dr. Akita & B.O.Y.D (Disney: DuckTales), Dr. Akita & Gyro Gearloose, Dr. Akita/Original Female Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	1. Photograph

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so I got sort of sucked into Astro Boy lore a while ago, and had some brain thoughts about Akita. And then I learned I wasn't the only one who had this idea, but I wanted to write it down in my interpretation at least. 
> 
> I'll add tags and warnings as needed, but let's start with an introductory chapter. 
> 
> Also special thank you to CosmicTanzanite for beta reading!

_ At age 33, Kazuhiko Akita was many things. A brilliant scientist, a competent caring father- _

_ "One flash left." _

_ "Thank goodness." The patriarch groaned softly, rolling his shoulders. "I wish this whole process went quicker." _

_ An impatient picture taker. _

_ "For this last one, try not to look so sour," Kishu pleaded lightly while she readied the camera on a timer. _

_ "What are you talking about?" _

_ "In every photo I've taken, you look like you're smelling something bad. I know you can smile." _

_ "A smile doesn't look professional," he argued matter-of-fact to his wife. "What sort of message does it convey to my associates if I don't look professional?" _

_ "It's the family portrait. I doubt your associates will care that you're happy to see your family," the fluffy white and brown spotted dog teased him gently, stepping over to adjust his jacket. Even after all their years of knowing each other through university, courtship and marriage, it took a bit of coaxing from her to get him to budge. _

_ "Yes, but it's the photo I keep on my desk, and-" _

_ He was cut off with a quick peck on the cheek, as Kishu smirked at the sudden blush on his face. "You can be honest and admit that you actually like us, Kazu." _

_ Kazuhiko, hearing his wife's nickname for him, evidently flustered him more, as he heard the amused giggles of his two children.  _

_ Uran, only three, took more after her mother in appearance and spent most of her time in her company. But her dark sparkling eyes and sweetness were always capable of getting Kazuhiko to submit to her requests, be it a chance to sit on his lap while he worked or an occasional red balloon from the cart traveling in the park. He told himself to be careful or he'd spoil her but she was too cute to resist sometimes.  _

_ Tobio, nine, was different. In almost every way, he was a mirror of his father when he was a boy. The day he was born, Kazuhiko had held him and decided this was the best day of his life. And as Tobio grew up, his father could only swell with absolute pride as his son explored the world with the same inquisitive nature and enthusiasm he had at his age. He knew the boy was destined for great things, and he would do absolutely anything to make sure they happened. _

_ "Alright, I know when I am outnumbered," Kazuhiko huffed in defeat. "You can keep the smiling photo, and I will keep whichever one looks the most serious." _

_ "I know when to compromise," Kishu laughed gently, picking up Uran to keep her from running off as she set the ten-second timer and leaned into her husband.Tobio got between them, and before any protest of the composition could be made, the camera flashed. _

_ “Isn’t it great?” Tobio had opined while his father scanned over the developed prints. “I made sure to get close to the camera, so you can remember what my face looks like.” _

_ Kazuhiko glanced between his son and the silly pose from the picture he was mirroring. In spite of his ambition to get a distinguished photo to show off at his office, somehow the prospect of seeing Tobio’s smiling face on his desk every day seemed much more rewarding. _

_ “I wanted that one, remember?”  _

_ “I’ll make copies,” Kazuhiko responded genuinely to Kishu’s teasing, pocketing the photo close to his breast. _ _  
_

* * *

Gyro didn't know what pissed him off more: the long flight, the poor hotel service, or the reasons he had to be here. If he had more time or ability to object, he wouldn't have even showed up, but after years of stress and more than one warrant on his name, he didn't want to cross the law...especially not Tezuka's precinct.    
  
He’d spent the whole walk from the hotel trying to think of what possible rewards he could reap from this, and there were absolutely none. In fact, he was certain there was better prospects for him if he’d declined the orders and spent a little bit of time and money avoiding the lady raven who would surely come for his ass. But before he could make that gamble, he’d arrived to Quakamatsu Penitentiary.

Admittedly, Gyro did like the nice touch of hospitality the orderlies provided him with as they escorted him from the waiting room, offering a bottle of water and a neat bag of cookies (he’d pocket them for later), but whatever desire for them he may have had would wither once he was here to face what he came for. It was probably a good thing there was glass between the two chairs, Gyro observed. If things were going to go as he predicted, there was a high probability he would try to break through the glass and throw some sharp punches. But Gyro did give himself some credit for not blowing his top immediately as he looked up from his lap and saw the other inhabitant seated across from him.

“What a surprise to see you, intern.”

“You’re the one who summoned me,” the scientist glared sourly.

“I’m just surprised you actually showed up.” Akita’s wrinkled grin was smug.

“Threats of getting Tezuka on my doorstep with handcuffs are a surprisingly good motivation.” Gyro crossed his arms. “You’re really cutting into my week here.”

“It wasn’t like you were doing anything important,” the prisoner scoffed, meticulously drumming his fingers on the tabletop surface. “And how is my wretched creation doing?”

“ _ My _ creation is doing as wonderful as he could possibly be,” Gyro countered back spitefully, “as a definitely real boy.”

Giving Akita a onceover, Gyro continued with a smirk. “And he’s certainly faring much better than you have. Did the prison not allow you to keep your shades?”

“The darkness evidently was not helping my vision, and if I desire to have working eyes by the end of the year, I had to switch.”

“As expected with myopic vision at your age. And the cane?” Gyro had just then noticed the metallic handle of the walking apparatus leaned against Akita’s chair. 

“Would you believe a prison injury?”

“I would if you were forty years younger and anyone else but you.” Gyro leaned on the table. “I’m gonna be real here. Seeing you like this? Knowing you’re gonna spend the rest of your life here? That is kind of making my trip here better.”

“Intern,” Akita glowered, “if I invited you here just so you could laugh at me, you’re stupidly mistaken.”   
  
“So come on with it then.” Gyro crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Whatever it was you were planning to do when I came here? Your evil speech of vengeance and mind games? I’m ready for it. I wrote out every possibility you could have orchestrated.”

“Use your brain,” the dog growled. “If I was doing anything you’ve expected, would Tezuka have forced you to come here?”

That logic hadn’t evidently come to Gyro until just then as his smug expression blanked. Then he glared. “What is it then?”

Akita opened his mouth to answer. Then he closed it again, and let his eyes explore all corners of the tiny box he was in. 

“I’m waiting,” Gyro goaded.

Akita’s eyes continued to wander as his mouth failed to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's my appearance HC's for Akita's family.
> 
> Tobio looks like an akita pup with his father's coloring, but he has big wide eyes like Boyd.
> 
> Kishu is a Kishu dog, with cream and spotted coloring, and very fluffy. And Uran looks like her but less fluffy.
> 
> I also wanted to give Akita a first name. Sue me.
> 
> Anywho stay tuned for chapter 2! Stuff is gonna get...wild.


	2. X-Ray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Mentions of dementia/illness

**  
** _ “Who is she?” _

_ “Inspector Tezuka,” Dr. Tonko answered. _

_ “Ah. Yes. Right.” _

_ Tezuka was still skeptical as she watched the penitentiary physician answer Akita’s questions again for a third time in two hours while taking various notes and numbers down on his clipboard, but the evidence of otherwise was...pretty damning. The vivid colored picture of a malevolent genius’ mind sat beside a decaying darkened and desaturated map, with only fragments and pieces of the color left, telling a story without words about their owner. _

_ “Any chance he’d be faking this?” The raven frowned. _

_ “At this point? Unlikely.” The doctor shook his head. “The behaviors could be mimicked, but MRIs certainly can’t. Nor the image damage from a stroke like the one last fall.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I figured that had been a fluke, considering he was back threatening revenge on the city after a week.” Tezuka glanced at the image taped on another wall, easily mistaken for a gray cloud with a dark mass at one end. _

_ “Why are you talking like I’m not sitting here?” Akita glared. “I haven’t gone deaf.” _

_ “Alright then,” the fox doctor sighed, fixing his pen on the side of his clipboard. “Akita-san, you are exhibiting physical and mental symptoms of what is commonly referred to as Alzheimer’s disease.” _

_ “Alright. And?” _

_ “Your brain cells are degenerating. And while there is treatment to slow the decay, it cannot be cured or reversed.” _

_ “I’m aware of what the affliction is,” Akita said with a scowl. “Now can I go?” _

_ “In a few minutes. Now, as you probably understand with a-” the doctor cleared his throat, “-terminal disease, you may want to be in contact with next of kin or an attorney or anyone who can help you get your affairs, both present and future, in order. Do you have living family?” _

_ Akita’s eye twitched briefly. “I do.” _

_ “Do you know where?” _

_ No answer. _

_ “I can find anyone anywhere,” Tezuka assured the doctor, then staring Akita in the eyes intensely. “I just need the names.” _

_ The inmate’s glare directed at the Inspector became unfocused after several seconds, and whatever words that came from his mouth shriveled before even a syllable could come out. The barely-silence of the wait was trying Tezuka’s patience, and she got in Akita’s face. _

_ “Their names.” _

_ “I’m-” Akita’s brows knotted together as he struggled to speak. “I can’t remember.” _

_ Whatever frustrated exclamation Tezuka had, she quickly swallowed and stepped back, groaning to herself. “Well then, I’ll have to make another sweep through your records- all of which you destroyed when your robot brat lazer-blasted city hall.” _

_ “2-BO,” Akita corrected her sharply. _

_ “Great. He remembers that.” She scowled at the doctor, who approached Akita again. _

_ “Akita-san, in the meantime, is there someone else you know who can be in charge of your medical care when you are...unable to do so? Someone who can be given power of attorney?” _

_ Whatever mental rolodex Akita kept had long since lost much of its bulk, mainly from all the bridges he burnt, and the brain decay had picked off a few more. Most of the names that came to his head were only the few he’d heard in the last few minutes, or something he read from the newspaper he’d been allowed. _

_ Only two came up. Well, three. One was a robot. Another brought him an unidentifiable sensation that troubled him. And the third... _

_ “Anyone?” the doctor repeated. _ _   
_

* * *

“Hey.  _ Hey. _ ” Gyro snapped his fingers as close to the glass as he could. “I know your brain is actively collapsing in on itself, but keep lucid please.”

“...Uh...what was I just saying?” Akita muttered, blinking to focus on Gyro’s face.

“Something about power of attorney to decide what happens to you when your gray matter eats itself away enough that you can’t make a difference between the decisions to eat or not eat breakfast or to set or not set yourself on fire.”

“What a callous take of my condition, intern,” Akita sneered.

“Oh please, I’ve become accustomed to watching the medical decay of people in my life. It’s not that strange for me.”

“Well, then you will be of no use.”

“I wish,” Gyro scoffed, sighing as he leaned on his elbow again. “While I am not a stranger to watching the decline of people, it’s not a  _ pleasant _ thing to watch...or experience yourself I can imagine.”

“Intern, you can’t imagine anything.”

“And as much as you’d assume that I’d be as callous and vindictive as you are-”, Gyro sighed, “I’m not.”

Akita’s irritably folded ears perked up at his reply. “What?”

“I know that you were probably expecting me to absolutely abuse that sort of power and make your life a living hell. But all your efforts to make me into a monster like you were a failure, and I won’t stoop to your level. However, before I say anything else: I am not going to be your power of attorney. That is a big fat ‘no.’ I’m not putting myself in any sort of situation where I have to keep in contact with you.”

Akita’s eyes were already starting to wander as Gyro glared at him with a shake of the head and scoff. “And I’m gonna be real, I had been planning, after this visit, to file a restraining order against you so I’d never have to deal with Tezuka demanding I get involved with you for whatever reason! God, I swear she thinks I’m your son or something-”

“Son. Son...” Akita repeated, looking around. “No. Not you.”

“I know, that’s what I was...” Gyro frowned as he watched Akita try to peer over his shoulder to see if anyone was there.

Gyro looked behind himself to see if anyone was there, but upon seeing nobody, turned around to see the growing confusion and stress lining across Akita’s face.

“Nobody’s there,” Gyro spoke, voice a marginal amount smaller. 

Akita’s breath shortened as he grew frustrated with the fleeting fragments of thoughts and memories flying around in his head but out of grasp.

Gyro’s brow furrowed and he gave a sigh. “I know you have family. Tell me about them what you can.”

After a longer silence, the chicken leaned in. “I won’t be your POA, but maybe I can find someone who can.”

The old dog wasn’t vocally answering any of Gyro’s words, but he definitely seemed to understand exactly what was being said, and his face soured in consideration of the offer.

Gyro had learned, from his own experiences with ailing relatives, that conversation could sometimes help bridge the gap in memories. It wasn’t a scientific thing really, just a theory really.

The chicken decided to get comfortable. There were names he needed to get.

“Tell me about your son.”   


* * *

_ “Have you decided what you would like for your birthday?” _

_ Tobio visibly pondered the question as he walked alongside his father towards home. “I’ve actually given a lot of thought, and while I haven’t made a final choice. It’s between two things.” _

_ “Oh?” Kazuhiko smiled. “And what would they be?” _

_ “It’s between a bicycle and a life-sized robot.” _

_ “And where would you be getting the robot from?” His father raised a playful brow. _

_ “I was hoping I could walk into your work and oversee it being made!” _

_ “I don’t make those sorts of robots,” Kazuhiko chuckled, “and don’t you already have a bicycle?” _

_ “Yes…” Tobio shifted on his feet as he glanced to the ground. “But it’s really not that fast...and it’s getting a little small. I’m growing, and by my birthday next week, I’ll be taller than the house.” _

_ Kazuhiko, amused at his son’s wide exaggeration, ruffled his hair. “I can’t have you breaking my roof. But any reasons other than that?” _

_ “Well, I’ve been thinking…” Tobio stopped to pick up a pebble and examine it as he walked, “every superhero needs some sort of vehicle to get to places and people super fast...unless they fly, and I know I can’t do that.” _

_ “Of course.” _

_ “And I need the same sort of vehicle for myself.” _

_ “You’re a schoolboy, not a superhero.” _

_ “Yet. A newer, faster bike could help me start my career,” the child insisted genuinely, looking up at his father with large hopeful eyes. _

_ Kazuhiko couldn’t hide a smile towards Tobio’s innocent face and gave a curt nod. “It would at least get you to school faster.” _

_ “Exactly!” Tobio’s tail wagged excitably, glad he was able to convince his father. As much as his father was the parent he was closest with, he was a tough person to persuade to allow for any frivolities. _

_ “So when you become a superhero,” Kazuhiko pondered, “what abilities will you have?” _

_ “I haven’t decided yet. I’m thinking maybe super speed.” _

_ “Are you fast enough for that?” _

_ “I’m faster than you!” Tobio shrugged. “And you’re pretty fast.” _

_ His father smirked. “Care to test that theory?” _

_ With a wordless cheer of delight, Tobio was quick to rocket down the street, his father joyfully at his heels. _


	3. Bicycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Haha! Nothing bad ever happens to the Akitas!"- Tobio Akita

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Character death and mentions of blood/injury.

The fondness in Akita’s eyes as he recalled long buried memories of his son was quite uncanny for Gyro to see. He’d been used to the fierce cold glare his mentor wore for so long that any sort of genuine happiness he expressed seemed quite foreign. And rather annoying.

“Hey. Okay. I’ve got one name,” Gyro cut off Akita. “Tobio Akita, correct?”

“Tobio?” The old dog blinked, having nearly forgotten half of what he spoke about. “Yes! Tobio is my son.”

“Great. Got an address I can contact him at?”

“No. He’s dead.”

“Pardon?”

“Tobio is dead.”

Whatever fondness Akita had spoken with earlier was now gone, as he told Gyro the truth of his son’s status with the same sort of emotion as he would have for saying the sky was blue. 

Mouth becoming dry, Gyro swallowed. “Oh.”

“Too bad for you, intern.” Akita gave a mirthless smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Whatever apologies Gyro may have had for Akita’s loss shriveled up pretty quickly, and he spat. “Whatever. So that’s off the table. Any other family?”

“What?” Akita smirked. “No further questions about my son?”

“Ideally, no.” Gyro crossed his arms. “My goal here is to find a living family member of yours who is able and willing to be your power of attorney, and with the information that your son is dead, he is no longer relevant. Unless he had children of his own and-”

“He was only ten years old.”

“Unfortunate. Now do you remember either your wife or daughter’s names? The sooner you remember them, the sooner we never have to see each other again.”

Akita’s gaze shifted away from the chicken behind the other side of the glass and down at his left paw, which sat listlessly on the table, not of much use following his stroke.

“He looked a lot like me, you know,” the inmate mused. “From top to tail.”

“Fascinating,” Gyro sighed, realizing Akita was not going to change subject just yet. “Any pictures?”

“He looked just like me, except his eyes. Big, wide, curious eyes. They were open the moment he was born. He was a smart boy...he was a year ahead in school-”

The chicken rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration that Akita was ignoring his questions. “So...what happened to him?”

Akita continued rambling, “He said he wanted to be like me...he called me a scientist superhero.”

“So what happened to him?”

“Why do you keep asking that?” Akita snarled. “What a rude question."

“You keep waxing poetic about your established dead son, so I feel it’s only natural to ask why he’s dead.”

“What a rude question,” Akita repeated, shaking his head. His face looked quite pained as he strained to think.

“...Do you remember what happened?”

“I don’t like to.”

“Alright, then should we carry on talking about your other family members instead? I’d like to stop dwelling on this and-”

“It wasn’t because of me you know.”

“I never insinuated such .”

* * *

_ "I’m sorry. We did everything we could.” _

_ At that moment, everything in Kazuhiko’s brain and body simply went on autopilot, as soon as Kishu collapsed into his arms with a bellowed, painful scream, sobbing out to her lungs’ full capacity. He remained silent, color draining from his face, and his voice became unable to say anything to question the doctor in front of them in the dark hallway.  _

_ Both parents had been called at the same time, from home and from work, by a police officer that they were both needed at the hospital. Neither of them had been able to get any answers as to why but knew, with dread, it had to do with Tobio. Especially since he had yet to arrive home from school on his new bicycle. His birthday present. _

_ Within minutes of reuniting with each other, Kazuhiko and Kishu had both been approached by a doctor who told them what no parent would ever want to hear: their dear son had been the victim of a hit and run involving a speeding car and his bicycle. An ambulance had been called but only after several minutes, when someone found him in the middle of the not-too-busy street. _

_ While Kishu sobbed curses and prayers to the cruel god who had taken her child from her into her husband’s shirt, Kazuhiko remained like a zombie, mind completely in disbelief of what he was told. _

_ Until his voice decided to finally figure it out once and for all. _

_ “Let me see him.” _

_ With the sheet pulled off his face, from a distance, Tobio merely appeared to be sleeping. But upon coming closer, it was evident that whatever life and breath this child owned had slipped out hours ago. Dark bruises dappled his face and shoulders and dried blood caked the edge of one ear from where it had poured onto the concrete.  _

_ He really was dead. _

_ Kazuhiko’s breath turned into dry heaves and he sank to his knees beside the metal table. Against a present nurse’s orders, he eased his child’s tiny broken body off the surface and into his arms.  _

_ Just like when he’d first held him during his birth in the hospital. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ A shaky hand thumbed faintly over the tangled fur of his son’s face, and Kazuhiko gently pressed his forehead against Tobio’s, stomach and nose curling at the terrible smell associated with death.  _

_ “Who did this?” he spoke to nobody. _

_ He asked again, this time, to the entering doctor and Kishu. _

_ “Who did this?” _

_ “Police are investigating, sir. As soon as they find more information, they will let you know.” _

_ Kishu’s sobs restarted with louder conviction and pain as she collapsed beside her husband, grieving over her dear son’s corpse. And after what seemed like an eternity, realistically only four more hours, the two returned home, without their son, to pick up their daughter from the neighbors’. Uran, far too young to understand death, had no context as to why her parents seemed so somber and tired when she approached to greet them. _

_ For over a week, everything moved in slow motion. Kazuhiko and Kishu barely left the house, except for a painfully quiet errand for food so their daughter wouldn’t starve in their grief. Kishu, after a few days, seemed like she was feeling a tad more stable but broke again after seeing Tobio’s baby pictures in the hallway. Kazuhiko immediately removed them. _

_ That was the only thing that he could think about right now, aside from Tobio. Comforting his wife. The rest of his soul felt empty and lost, and all he felt useful for in a physical sense was allowing Kishu to embrace him and weep as they lay in bed together. _

_ Finally, when a police officer arrived at their home with information, Kazuhiko tried to present himself as a bit more put together, but it was hard. The driver was a seventeen-year-old student, without a license, and she was sick with guilt. Kazuhiko didn’t care if she was sick with anything. He just wanted to know if she’d be punished.  _

_ He grew frustrated when the police officer began talking about how the car was owned by the girl’s father, a councilman of the city with high influence and power. “I’m afraid that if charges were pressed, or this matter was taken to court, he would still be able to pay the bail funds and fines associated with the crime-” _

_ “I don’t care,” Kazuhiko spoke aloud, louder than he had in the last several days. _

_ “Councilmen Tama is willing to pay your family whatever monetary fund you deem acceptable for this-” _

_ “I don’t want damned blood money, I want my son!” Kazuhiko snarled angrily in the officer’s face. _

_ Kishu cried as she watched the exchange. “Kazu please, I can’t take any more of this-” _

_ “You heard him!” he snapped at her. “Tobio is dead, and they want us to forget about him with money!” Then he faced the officer again. “I want that wretched girl or her father in the deepest prison this city has. I don’t care what it takes.” _

_ “I’m very sorry sir. But there’s nothing else to be done.” _

_ As soon as the police officer left, door shutting behind him, something in Kazuhiko broke. And it was never going to be fixed. _

* * *

“You see, intern,” Akita smiled mirthlessly as he recalled such harrowing memories with a derisive tone, “my son didn’t die because of anything I did. He died because everyone else  _ did nothing _ .”

Gyro’s agape beak shut very slowly as he tried to think of a proper response to such a reveal. While he certainly wasn’t feeling a bleeding heart for the monster in front of him, it certainly did explain a lot of the unhinged behavior Akita exhibited in the past.

“And I realized something,” Akita continued to smile, eyes exhausted and hateful. “That’s just how the world works. How it was meant to work.”

Gyro finally found words and sighed, “What happened to your son was by no doubt absolutely horrible and completely undeserved, but it’s not how the world is meant to work.”

“And yet that’s how it works anyway isn’t it? You bear your children, you love them, and then suddenly they are taken from you while they’re still helpless, and nobody does anything to help them or help you except offer you cold hard cash.” Before Gyro could argue, Akita leaned in closer to the glass. “The world is a cruel and unforgiving hell, and I simply work with it.”

Gyro finally dared to say, “That doesn’t sound like what your son would have wanted.”   
  
After a brief silence, Akita laughed mirthlessly. “I stopped asking myself what Tobio would have wanted decades ago. It drove me mad to continue doing so.”

“Your son saw you as a superhero. His superhero,” the chicken urged, trying to reach that tiny remaining shred of humanity in his mentor before madness or dementia erased it for good.

And with the remaining thirty seconds before he forgot what he was saying, Akita spoke flatly, “If superheroes were real, Tobio would still be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (:


	4. Bassinet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: This chapter contains brief description of the death of a child.

“Wait...Tobio...2-BO...was that intentional or- wow, okay, how did I not put that together,” Gyro spoke to himself, not noticing as Akita’s eyes were glazing over and looking to various random spots of the room in confusion until several seconds in.    
  
“Oh shit come on no, no, we were making progress!” he hissed under his breath upon realizing he would be dealing with more goading and forgetfulness.

“What?” Akita frowned, brow furrowing as he tried to remember what they had been talking about. “Intern, what are you doing here? This isn’t the lab is it?”

Gyro swore under his breath. “No. Look. I need some information about your family. You told me about Tobio, condolences. But hey, tell me about your wife. Your daughter?”

Akita looked even more confused at the rapid-fire questioning, then perked up. “Oh! Yes. My wife and daughter….they’re…” He frowned. “I remember them, but their names-”

“Tell me about them. All about them.”

* * *

_ Kazuhiko had first seen her in his very first class of university and like any completely normal adolescent his age, he didn’t talk to her for four months and buried his shyness into his studies and completely made a fool of himself by tripping over his tongue when she first approached him for conversation. And then rinse and repeat.  _

_ It was becoming clear to Kazuhiko that this wasn't his typical schoolyard crushes of childhood past, but there was still that underlying fear of rejection or embarrassment. Children could be mean, and he'd been the easier target when he was a pup, being a bit fat, clumsy, and shy. _

_ It was only when she had one of her friends relay him a message that he finally got the courage to ask her out on a date. It had been at a museum, during a class trip, but they stood within a foot of each other and talked about a few things other than the topic of focus. _

_ She was smart and gentle in how she carried herself, but when she talked, it felt so invigorating to hear her speak. Kazuhiko had been getting into long conversations with her, and they'd spent most of their informal dates talking about anything and everything. In full honesty, Kishu could be reading from a phonebook, and Kazuhiko would have loved to listen to her. After at least three years of courting, complete with introductions to parents and exchanging of love letters in their brief times apart, Kazuhiko knew she was the one he wanted to live his life and grow old with.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Kishu’s parents had been reluctant to give their blessing to the couple to marry, and Kazuhiko, ever the traditionalist, had been adamant to get it before marrying her (it drove Kishu nuts). Eventually, after more tenacious attempts to prove his worth and loyalty to their daughter, her parents gave Kazuhiko their approval. Immediately, things seemed to go in fast motion for Kazuhiko, as within a year of being married, he and Kishu discovered they were expecting a baby. Being an only child and having had little to no interaction with infants in his lifetime, Kazhuhiko had a limited number of months to learn the basics of childrearing. Kishu had marginally more experience and helped where she could, but it was all virtually new to her as well. In spite of how exhausting it was for both of them to prepare for their unborn child, they always looked forward to laying with each other at night, silently thinking of their wonderful future.  
  
_ _ When Tobio was born, Kazuhiko very quickly was told, by many of his family, in-laws and co-workers, that his son looked just like him, and he couldn’t disagree. The only caveat was that while Kazuhiko had been born, his eyes were shut like most normal babies were, and Tobio was born with eyes wide and receptive to the world. Kazuhiko knew his son was destined for great things, and when he told him such while cradling him in the hospital, Tobio responded by letting his small pink tongue touch his father’s thumb. _

_ When Uran was born, less than six years later, it wasn’t as confusing and scary as the first time. The worst of it had ultimately been trying to get someone to look after Tobio when Kishu went into labor two weeks earlier than predicted, and Kazuhiko was a flustered wreck trying to get her to the hospital.  _

_ To say he fell in love with his tiny daughter at first sight would have been an understatement. Kazuhiko had held her in the most gentle but strong of vice grips and gave no sign that he would be letting her go any time soon, unless Kishu had to feed her. She had more feistiness to her than Tobio had, daring to bite the finger that gently brushed her nose in spite of having no teeth yet. Kazuhiko knew she’d do just fine in the world. Tobio was wide eyed and inquisitive, and she was fearless and energetic. _

_ Everything changed after Tobio died. Except for Uran, who was too young to understand anything that had happened, and nobody knew how to answer her questions as to where her brother went. And so she went about life as she always did, smiling and fearless. In an attempt to salve her grief, Kishu had told Kazuhiko, hopefully, that Uran would at least have nothing but good memories of her brother growing up. Kazuhiko had said nothing. _

_ Uran loved her parents very much. But she didn’t understand why her mother had started smiling less. And why her father...wasn’t himself anymore. She had made attempts to climb on his lap or ask him to play, and he’d refuse to answer or stand up and leave. Kazuhiko didn’t know how to tell her that he had more pressing matters to deal with like the tasks he’d appointed himself.  _

_ The police wouldn’t do anything about his son’s killers. So he would do something himself. He didn’t tell Kishu about it. She found out on accident, discovering his written notes and implements of use in his study and put two and two together. She’d been so heartsick over her beloved’s spiral into madness and wanted to figure out some way to help him. And instead, she discovered the darker truth. _

_ She tried to think of some sort of way to approach him about it, to confront him about it, but she knew this kind of plan was not the type of thought process a sane and nonviolent person made. And that was the man she loved, and she wasn’t sure if he was even there anymore. She pretended she didn’t know anything about it, trying to appeal to the love she prayed he still had for their family, embracing him at night in bed, trying to get some sort of affection, but he hardly reacted. And she had to resist the urge to cry herself to sleep, knowing what she had to do, before it was too late, and her husband made the worst mistake in his life. _

_ Kishu called the police while Kazuhiko was at work. And then she left with Uran. He never knew where she went, and he didn’t ever look. _

* * *

Gyro rubbed the bridge of his beak. “So she found out you were putting together some sort of murder plot and ratted on you. How were you not in jail already?”

“Believe me,” Akita spoke lowly, “it was days upon days of interrogation and psychological examination. I had to convince them it was a therapy exercise of mine to have written notes plotting revenge and that the evidence they found was just work projects. I got out by the skin of my teeth.”

The chicken sighed, “You were either very smart or they were very stupid.”

“It’s both,” Akita surmised. “...You’re probably thinking I deserved to go to prison, yes?”

“More that you needed some serious therapy,” the chicken scoffed softly. “I’d suggest it now, but I don’t think it’s going to do you any good with the track record your memory has.”

The dog didn’t answer that, so Gyro began to look at his phone. 

While his mind was still sharp, Akita smirked weakly. “I did sometimes wonder how Uran was doing, and if she would remember me when she grew up. Or if her mother would have remarried and given her a new father-”

“This her?” Gyro suddenly held the phone to the glass to show a social media photo of the namesake who resembled Akita the closest.

Akita squinted at the photo, then his eyes went wide, mouth agape in disbelief. “H-How did you find that?”

“Social media. I literally just typed in her name, birthplace and voila! I mean, I just did half of Tezuka’s job here.”

The dog peered closer at the picture, ears perking up when Gyro took the phone away. “W-Well, what is she doing now? Is she happy?”

“She looks adequately satisfied with life.” Gyro scrolled through his phone to find more information. “She works as an architect, she travelled to Thailand last fall, she does yoga, and she has a wife and son.”

“Really? I have grandchildren?” The inmate visibly brightened, eyes sparkling excitably and his tail slowly wagged.

“Congratulations,” Gyro extended flatly, void of hostility.

“What about Kishu? Can you find her?” Akita asked, leaning over the table to get closer to the glass again.

Gyro scrolled for a half minute, then frowned and shook his head. “Nope, there’s not anything under her name.”

Akita didn’t quite know what to say, ears drooping as Gyro suggested bluntly, “It’s very likely she changed her name after she left you, based on the circumstances.”

The old dog shook his head, voice losing conviction. “I never would have hurt her.”

“I’m afraid that’s what you did, regardless of intention.”

There was a long silence, and Gyro took that opportunity to scroll his phone again. “I can give Tezuka the name of your daughter, and she can figure out a tactful way to contact her and see if she’d be able and willing to be your power of attorney.”

“Maybe that isn’t a good idea,” Akita spoke up, looking overwhelmed.

“It’s better than a hoity toity lawyer in it for the money-”

“Her mother changed her name…” Akita breathed. “Uran...Uran was only four when they left, she wouldn’t remember me...and whatever her mother told her about me probably wasn’t good.”

“Oh definitely, but she’s your only option right now.”

Akita stared at Gyro, then at his hands, and let his eyes stay there. He gave a weak laugh, as if to swallow down growing anxiety.

“You want to know something, intern?”

“Sure.”

“Had I known this is what would be my fate, I would have let myself die along with Tobio,” he admitted. “Or at least traded places with him.”

Gyro finally saw an emotion in Akita he’d never genuinely and truly seen before: guilt.

_ “It should have been me.” _

In that moment, Gyro sensed he was finally talking with the man who had been lost to madness and grief decades prior: Dr. Kazuhiko Akita and not the crazed and hegemonic mentor who he’d been mentored by. And while he was still conscious, this Kazuhiko fellow needed some peace of mind.

Gyro removed his glasses and sighed. “Did I ever tell you about my grandfather?”

“What?”

“He passed when I was way too young to remember him, but my father told me about how, in the last few years of his life, he also suffered from Alzheimers and effectively forgot everything that made him who he was. But there was only two things that he remembered up to his death.”

“Which was?”

Gyro glanced at the ceiling. “Well, the first thing was horrific. When he was in his forties, he lived next door to a family with two twin girls. They were just about four or five years old, the same age my father was at the time. They were playmates, I think. One day, he was pulling out the car, he didn’t see the girls were playing in the driveway, so he backed up over one of them and killed her.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Big oh. The neighbors were devastated, but they knew it was an accident and didn’t hold it against my grandfather. But it haunted him for years. And he remembered it up until the day he died.”

“...What was the second thing he remembered?”

“Funny enough, it was me. I was still an infant, but he was delighted to see me when my father brought me over on visits. And on his deathbed, he still insisted on holding me and referring to me by name. But he didn’t remember my father at all.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Maybe if you can remember both your kids now, you’ll have both good and bad memories of them in your last days...and maybe if your daughter reconnects with you, she can help revitalize the good memories you have.”

Akita didn’t answer for over a half minute, leaving Gyro to believe he completely forgot everything they had just talked about.

“What did your father die from again?” Akita asked, almost sounding annoyed.

“Cancer.”

“Eugh.”

“Yeah. That wasn’t fun to watch. It happened right before I traveled to Tokyolk too.”

“You should have stayed home then.”

“If I had, you would have destroyed the city even faster.”

“No. I wouldn’t have.”

“Excuse me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akita dabs: lost the kid in the divorce bottom text


	5. Blueprint

_ Years in solitude hadn’t proven to be the most efficient way of working for Akita. Yes, he’d been successful in getting his own lab off the ground by himself in the wake of tragedy and disgrace, but now, things were really starting to pick up.  _

_ He kept things relatively normal looking on the surface. In front of big name investors, he kept his inventions and patents relatively sterile and palatable. Robots for manufacturing automobiles here, improvements on appliances there, an occasional security system or two. Under the table however, was where his real passions and effort were going. Weapons. Explosives. Things that the world demanded and that he was happy to provide after years and years of doing so to block out the painful static in his brain when he thought about the past too much.  _

_ His clients for such projects were Akita’s kind of people. They didn’t like small talk, they didn’t ask him too many questions beyond the functions of the invention, and they were all too pleased to let him add as much destructive power to them as possible. And they paid a lot of money. Admittedly more than what Akita could figure to use.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Even in his lust for power and revenge, he never really cared much about money. He’d received a hefty wire transfer from a returning buzzard client when it occurred to Akita that some of the money could go towards things that would benefit him in the lab. Like newer computers, sleeker parts- _

_ Employees.  _

_ With his successes getting bigger, his work was becoming more in demand, and Akita knew at some point, he probably couldn’t keep up. While he could have built a robot to help him, he figured it would ultimately be cheaper to hire a capable pair of living hands. _

_ Archimedes Gyroscope Gearloose had answered his vague internship listing over the computer, and Akita almost wrote him off for his barely-eighteen age until he read in the introductory message that the kid had graduated with a full doctorate degree in college at seventeen, sending several transcript files. Highschool graduate by fifteen, undergrad a year and a half later, Akita wondered if Gearloose was secretly a supercomputer in disguise. _

_ The telephone interview was kept very brief. Akita kept the questions short, initially just wanting to know if the kid would be capable and willing to work for cheap. Gearloose had said he’d happily work for pennies at the chance to be mentored by such a brilliant mind. _

_ “Any other career experience?” _

_ “Aside from the university internship? Well...I was a batboy for a baseball team for a few summers.” _

_ “Can you make tea?” _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Sweep?” _

_ “Also yes.” _

_ “Can you keep your mouth closed unless it’s absolutely necessary for you to talk?” _

_ “Yes!” _

_ Gearloose evidently lied about that part, as he hardly shut up throughout the whole first day of work and orientation. Akita held his tongue to brace for the headache that would be coming on.  _

_ For that first week, the kid was a dull but necessary pain in Akita’s side. He had the social skills of a carrot, the fashion choices of a 19th century bumpkin, he was clumsy on two feet, he decorated his desk in the lab with too much junk, and Akita wanted to bash his own head in when he saw he’d brought in a banjo to fiddle with on lunch breaks. But he did make good tea, he kept the lab spotless, and while Akita was loath to admit it, Gearloose was brilliant. Pitifully naive but brilliant. _

_ Akita was eager to take advantage of his intern’s energetic optimism, offering him extra (unpaid) lab time to work on finishing the more innocuous projects that he didn’t feel like touching. While Gearloose adjusted nuts and bolts on some sleek dish washing robot, Akita adjusted the incineration lasers on a death ray set to be shipped to Calisota in three days. Oddly, aside from the interview, whenever he chatted, Gearloose hardly ever talked about himself, instead blabbering about the newest progress in the field of science and robotics (ie nothing Akita didn’t already know).  _

_ “Don’t you have anybody else you can talk to?” Akita had snapped tiredly one morning. “Friends? Family? I’m tired, intern.” _

_ The kid visibly didn’t expect to be scolded, his already wide eyes going large in astonishment, and he flushed red. “S-Sorry, I know I can talk a lot but-” _

_ “Then call your parents. I’m not a parent.” _

_ Whatever Gearloose said was mumbled, and that annoyed Akita even more, who ordered him to speak up. _

_ “My father is dead.”  
  
_ _ “Anyone else?” _

_ “My stepmother works late hours as a nurse. I don’t want to bother her. Timezones and the like, you know.” _

_ “...Right.” _

_ And then, for the next several hours, the lab was quiet, not even the sound of cheerful humming grating anywhere on Akita’s ears. And he so much preferred it that way. _

* * *

“You know you were a real jerk to me,” Gyro scoffed, smiling mirthlessly. “Literally the same week you called for the interview, my father died, and I only had two weeks after that before I needed to move to Tolkyolk.”

“What did he die from again?” Akita asked.

“You already forgot?”

“Wait, did you already tell me?”

Gyro groaned. “Yes. And I said cancer.”

“Oh.”  
  
“Earlier you were saying I should have stayed home if I didn’t want you to destroy Tokyolk. I want you to explain that to me.”

“I said that?”

* * *

_ Admittedly, the idea of creating 2-BO had been Gearloose’s, when Akita had him polishing his newest security system up for patent.  _

_ “Have you considered making a mobile security system?” _

_ “Define mobile,” Akita grumbled in between bites of his noodle lunch. _

_ “Well,” the intern adjusted his glasses, “something that can be deployed in a public place and offer protection to more people. Like imagine if you got mugged in the street and suddenly, you were being shielded by a drone that scared off the mugger or apprehended them.” _

_ “I don’t know if you go outside much, intern,” Akita scoffed, “but nobody wants flying robots around.” _

_ “Well, what if it was made to look less like a robot? Maybe like a child?” _

_ Akita flicked one of his ears, about to dismiss the idea but really couldn’t give a good rebuttal. Admittedly, something like that could maybe work. He just wasn’t that into the whole ‘defense’ thing. Why offer something to the city that could surely help it when he had no desire to do so? _

_ “I suppose you can start on a prototype. But only if you finish everything else.” _

_ “Already done, sir.” _

_ God damn it, that’s right. Gearloose was a genius on octane. _

_ And so Akita left the kid to his own devices. For the first few days, it looked like there was nothing actually happening. Just a lot of Gearloose writing out copious notes, scribbling down diagrams, and mumbling to himself. The head scientist had successfully ignored it until after a week of peace, his intern dropped a large multi-layered blueprint right in front of him. _

_ “Can I ask for feedback please?” Gearloose asked hopefully. “On anything. Anything that needs to be altered or fixed with it.” _

_ Irritably, Akita sighed and obliged, flipping through the transparent prints at the different layers of detail. From a glance, the bottommost layer seemed workable, all the necessary parts for a security drone were there, arranged acceptably. Middle layer was more inner workings, again, nothing that was out of the ordinary. The top layer, however... _

_ “What is this?” Akita frowned, gaze flitting between the large curious eyes and tiny curled tuft of a tail. Where’d he get this idea? Did Gearloose go through his stuff? _

_ “Oh, the design? I wanted to make it look like a child, so it’s more discreet in a public setting and-” _

_ “Why is it a dog?” the scientist asked tersely. “Why does it look like-” he stopped short of saying the name, “-that?” _

_ “I just thought you’d like it.” Gearloose flushed nervously. “I thought it looked cute.” _

_ After a long silence, Akita drew a large red X over the top layer. “Change it.” _ _   
_

* * *

“You know I never saw what he looked like.” Gyro frowned. “If I’d known, I would have designed it different from the start.”

Akita said nothing.

“Did you forget who you were just talking about?”

* * *

_ “Intern, it’s not even lunch break, you better have a very good explanation for using that thing,” Akita growled irritably as he stomped over to where the chicken was sat with the banjo. _

_ “I’m trying to get the drone used to music!” Gearloose smiled, proud of his performance for the unfinished baby parrot android on his desk. _

_ “That’s not music. That sounds like a cat fighting on a fence.” _

_ “I don’t sing that terribly,” the chicken muttered. “Would you rather I play cassette tapes instead?” _

_ “Of what?” _

_ “Possibly recordings of myself singing?” _

_ With one calm motion, Akita grabbed the banjo. “Intern I am going to break this thing.” _

* * *

_ “Dr. Akita, what are you doing?” _

_ Without turning to face his intern, the scientist continued typing. “I’m adjusting your programming for 2-BO’s defense systems. They were too easy to hair-trigger, so I’m refining them.” _

_ “Oh...well...thank you.” Gearloose inched closer. “Wait, you named it?” _

_ “I always give names to my inventions.” _

_ “Well, technically, it’s mine since-” _

_ “My lab. My invention.” _

* * *

_ “Dr. Gearloose, look at me!” _

_ “Not so high 2-BO, you might rocket into the ceiling!” _

_ Akita had wanted to ignore the chaos happening behind him while he worked, but the prospect of the new drone breaking his ceiling was not something he wanted to chance, and he turned around to face them with a sour look. _

_ “If you’re going to cause damage, do it somewhere else,” he scolded his intern as the chicken scooped up 2-BO. _

_ Gearloose hardly seemed upset by the scolding, giving the child drone a squeeze. “I suppose that’s a good idea. Alright 2-BO, shall we continue this field test at the park? The weather is nice.” _

_ “That sounds ever so much fun! Could I get one of those balloons they sell?” _

_ “Maybe if you’re good!” Gearloose smiled as he gave 2-BO a tighter squeeze and walked out of the lab with him, not noticing Akita’s glare trailing him. _

_ For the last two weeks, the lab had been full of that gratingly joyful noise and walla as Gearloose spent time training the drone, testing all its features and talking to it like it was actually real. Akita hated it. He hated everything about it. He hated how no matter how much Gearloose changed the design, it still stared up at the world in that curious, hopeful, wide-eyed gaze that he remembered so much. He hated that he impulsively gave it that name. He hated how comfortably it looked fitted in Gearloose’s arms, tucked to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it was read a bedtime story.  _

_ He hated how happy Gearloose looked enabling all of it. _

_ He couldn’t and wouldn’t rebuild Tobio. And 2-BO was so cruel to mimic him that much. The changes Akita had made to his programming would fix that. All he needed was the right moment. _

* * *

“Wait…you overwrote my work because you were  _ jealous? _ ”

“You were mocking me.” Akita glared. “Creating that thing, reminding me of what I could never have again-”

“Oh, for the love of-” the chicken cursed soundlessly, then slapped his hands on the table. “I didn’t even know you had family until today!”

“Why did you have to go and make it a  _ child _ robot?”

“I don’t know! Maybe because I thought it would blend in better with the city? Maybe because artificial intelligence is nuanced? Maybe I actually wanted kids of my own?”

Akita didn’t seem to believe that with the leer he aimed at Gyro.

“Look. 2-BO was one of the first things I created after I lost my father. I had a good childhood, and I figured that was a good enough reason for me to try raising a family of my own one day. I really liked the kid, and I wanted him to do good in the world.”

“That’s stupid.”

“But hijacking my defense drone because you were jealous isn’t?”

Akita’s glare only softened marginally, and he stared at the table, saying nothing.

After almost a minute of full silence, Gyro sighed and got up. “I’m going to give your daughter’s name to Tezuka, and she’ll ask her to contact you. And with full sincerity I hope she considers it for your sake.”

Akita didn’t respond.

“Do you still want to contact her? Because either way, I’m not wanting any part in deciding to pull your plug or whatever other gross decisions there have to be made in the details surrounding your death. If Tezuka is so concerned about that, she can do it herself.”

After more seconds of silence, Akita began to pat at his chest and mumble in distress.

“Photo...photo.”

“Pardon?”

“Photo. Where’s my photo?” Akita spoke above a whisper to himself. “I had it in my coat right here-”

“You’re not wearing a…” Gyro trailed off on his reminder, seeing the glazed, unfocused look in Akita’s eyes, and a knot tugged at his stomach.

“Did I give it to Kishu…? I...oh...hello?” Akita’s ears perked in surprise to see the chicken in front of him. “Can I help you?”

Beak agape, Gyro watched as his old mentor’s eyes looked on him with unfamiliarity. He wasn’t even struggling to remember him...he just plain forgot.

“Uh...no.” The chicken shook his head. “I don’t need anything, thanks.”

Akita didn’t ask anything else, returning his attention to the fruitless search for a long gone photo. Before he went through the door, Gyro dared to quietly wish Akita he hoped he found what he was looking for.

He hardly said much else, even when he returned to Duckburg. B.O.Y.D. smiled as Gyro entered the lab. “Hi, Dr. Gearloose! How was your trip?”

Wordlessly, Gyro swept up his definitely real boy into a quiet but firm embrace.

* * *

Akita couldn’t quite pin why his bed felt comfortable when he couldn’t even pinpoint how long he’d been residing here. But it was the least of his thoughts now, especially since he’d be spending hours awake, knowing that whenever he fell asleep, he’d wake up with less memories than before.

He attributed the small footsteps he was hearing to a guard patrolling for the night, and remained staring at his ceiling. What had he been doing again that day? Maybe laundry? Physical therapy? He couldn't quite recall anything beyond being given his nighttime medication.

The footsteps had stopped outside his cell, and Akita thought nothing of it, allowing his eyes to close.

"Father?"

In the brief moment he opened his eyes, Akita was staring at a face he hadn't seen in years.

"What are you doing here?" he asked the figure.

There was no answer as Tobio simply remained standing there, looking up at his father. He did not smile. He did not cheer. Instead he gazed upon Akita with a frown.

Akita frowned back. "You should go. You do not belong here."

The long dead pup stood in place, contempt visible on his otherwise rested face.

Akita's stomach turned, and he scowled. "I know you are not real. Now leave."

After almost a minute of silence, Kazuhiko screwed his eyes shut, refusing to look at Tobio any more.

"Please," he begged, "please leave."

No matter how much Kazuhiko quietly coaxed and pleaded for the illusion to disappear, telling him he was fake and to leave him in peace, Tobio remained standing, staring in disappointed silence. Even when Kazuhiko closed his eyes and tried to will himself to forget, he could feel his child's gaze still on him and didn’t know when he’d ever feel it leave.


End file.
